sending for and meeting face to face--even in disguise--the man whose
business in life it had become to ruin him.
"Good evening, sir," he began politely, with the accent of an educated
man and a suggestion of Chinese lisp--or a good imitation. "I am part
owner of this place. I have come to know through my partner a sad case
of a client of his, a poor man who was a friend of yours in another
country. My partner is a good man but he is hard. He would have put
this fellow out and not cared; but I said, keep him and I will send
word to that friend he talks about, that Lord John Hasle. Maybe
something can be done to help. My partner did not wish me to do this
thing, because there might be danger for him, from the police. If you
go further, you will soon understand why. But I have been years in
England. I know Englishmen. I said to my partner, if this lord is
asked to come alone, in a hurry, for the sake of his friend, he will
not be a traitor. That is why I had to do things in a prudent way. I
was right. You are here. But this is not all you have to do. You
give me your word you will make no noise if I show you the secret of
our place?"
"As to that, I give you my word," I said, curious, but far from
trustful. "The message I received hints that Sir Donald Allendale
didn't die. Is he here?"
"He is downstairs," replied the alleged Asiatic.
As he spoke, he touched one of the big, brass-headed tacks which
appeared crudely to keep in place the bamboo frame of the Chinese
Hunter. Instantly the picture moved out of the frame, like a sliding
panel, and showed an opening or door in the wooden wall at the back of
the room.
I felt that the long eyes watched to see if I "funked," but I think my
features remained as noncommittal as those of Buddha himself. As a
matter of fact I was scarcely surprised to find myself in one of those
secret rabbit warrens of which I had read. I guessed that each of the
private dining-rooms in the row I had seen, possessed a concealed door
leading down to a hidden "opium den" underneath. I guessed, too, that
only certain trusted habitues of the restaurant were allowed to learn
the secret. Whether my being let into it were a compliment, or a sign
that I shouldn't get a chance to betray it, I was not sure. But I
wished that I had looked to the loading of my revolver which, so far as
I remembered, held no more than one cartridge. I fancied that my
Chinese friend was Rameses himself, and that he might indeed be a
financial "power behind the throne" in the business of this house.
Deliberately I went to the table and selected a steel knife which lay
beside one of the plates. The tall Chinaman watched me pocket it, with
a benevolent smile, such as he might have bestowed upon a child arming
itself with a tin sword to fight a shadow. As he stood statue-like
beside the aperture in the wall, two men in Chinese costume, dressed
like the waiters of the restaurant, came through the panel-door from
the mysterious dusk on the other side. Each had a small tray in his
hand, as if to serve at a meal. With a bow for my companion and an
extra one for me they moved along the wall, one on either side of the
room, passing behind us both, and ranging themselves to right and left
of the exit to the restaurant.
It was obvious that they were ready to prevent my making a dash if I
were inclined to do so. They were big fellows, regular "chuckers out"
in size; and my host himself was more than my equal in height. All the
same, if I'd wanted to escape, I thought I could have downed the three,
unless they were experts in ju jitsu, where I was an amateur. No such
intention, however, was in my mind. I determined to see the adventure
to the end, in the hope of finding Allendale. He might have fallen
into such hands as these, and be held for some reason which I hoped to
learn.
"After you!" I said politely to my guide who would have let me go
ahead. We bowed like Chinese mandarins, and then, as if to prove that
he meant no harm, he passed before me through the panel-door. Whether
the two men closed it again in case of a police raid (which must always
be dreaded in such a place) I don't know; but I guessed that they were
under orders to follow at a distance.
There was just enough light in a narrow passage behind the panel to
prevent those who entered it from stumbling over each other. I saw
that it was a long, straight corridor running between the wooden back
wall of the row of private dining-rooms and the house wall. Such light
as there was came from the end of the passage, and from below, where it
could be turned off in case of danger. I followed my companion, our
feet making no noise on the matting-covered floor: and voices of those
in the private rooms were audible through the thin partition. I smiled
rather grimly for my own benefit as my fancy pictured a raid: how an
alarm would be sent to those below stairs: an electric bell, perhaps:
and how those in a condition to move would swarm up from secret,
forbidden regions underground, running like rats through this corridor
to take their places in the row of dining-rooms. There they would be
found, calmly eating and drinking: and unless the "sleuths" had certain
information concerning the concealed doors, there would be no excuse to
look further!
At the far end of the passage, as I expected, there was a steep
stairway. My guide still went in advance, as a proof of good faith.
Having opened a baize door which muffled sound, he held it open for me
to pass into a large room lit by green-shaded electric lamps that hung
from the low ceiling. There was gas also, which could be used if the
electricity failed. Here, men were gambling, silent as gambling
ghosts. They played fan tan and other games: Chinese and Europeans,
both men and women. Nobody glanced up when we arrived. We might have
been flies for all the interest we excited. I looked over my shoulder
as we came to the head of a second staircase leading down another
storey, to see if the supposed "waiters" were behind us. They were not
to be seen: nevertheless I "felt in my bones" that they were not far
off.
The floor below the gambling-room was devoted to the smoking of opium.
There were several doors no doubt leading into private rooms for those
who could pay high prices: and ranged along the two side walls were
rows of berths protected by curtains. Two "cooks" were at work making
the pills to fill the pipes, handed to customers by attendants. There
was practically no furniture in the large, low room, which was filled
with the peculiar, heady fragrance of cooking opium.
Yet even then we had not reached our destination. A third staircase
led down to a deeper cellar; and I could but think as I continued the
game of "follow my leader," what a neat trap the fly was allowing the
spider to land him in! However, I went quietly on, consoling myself
with the thought that it's a wise fly who is up to the spider's tricks
and watching for the lid of the trap to fall.
This last cellar was evidently for the cheapest class of customers.
There were berths here too, but the curtains were poor, or
non-existent, and many Chinamen lay about the floor on strips of
matting. The atmosphere was foetid, and thick with opium smoke. As we
moved towards a rough partition at the further end, our figures tore
the grey cloud as if it had been made of gauze.
"Your friend lies very sick in a room there," said my guide, speaking
for the first time since he had stepped through the panel. "We have
paid for his keep a long time now."
I made no answer, only following with my eyes the gesture he made,
pointing at the unpainted wooden partition. In this partition were
three doors, also of rough, unpainted wood. Two stood ajar, showing
small rooms which I fancied were used by the attendants and opium
"cooks." One door was closed. My companion opened it, indicating,
with a smile, that it possessed no lock, only an old-fashioned latch.
"You need not fear to go in and talk with your friend alone," he said,
in his low, monotonous voice. "You see, he is not a prisoner! And we
cannot make you one."
I shrugged my shoulders, and passed him without a word, shutting the
door behind me as I entered the wretched den on the other side. It was
lit by one paraffin lamp, supported by a bracket attached to the wall,
and such light as existed brought out from the shadows the vague
lumpish shape of a mattress on the floor. Two or three odds and ends
of furniture lurked in corners, but I scarcely saw their squalor. My
one thought was for a dark form stretched on the grey heap of bedding.
I bent over it, and a hand seemed to grip my heart. "My God, poor old
Don! What have they done to you?" I broke out.
A skeleton in rags lay on the filthy mattress. The yellow light from
the bracket lamp lit his great eyes as they suddenly opened, in deep
hollows. Even his face looked fleshless. There were streaks of grey
in the dark hair at his temples, and an unkempt beard mingled with the
shadows under his cheekbones. This was what remained of Donald
Allendale, one of the smartest and handsomest men in the army.
He stared at me dully for an instant, his eyes like windows of glass
With no intelligence behind them. Then abruptly they seemed to come
alive. "Jack!" he gasped. "Am I--dreaming you?"
"No, dear old chap, no," I assured him, down on one knee by the
mattress, slipping an arm under his head. "It's Jack right enough,
come to take you out of this and make you the man you were again."
As I spoke, slowly and distinctly, so that the comforting words might
reach his sick soul, I heard a faint, stealthy noise outside. There
was a slight squeak as of iron scraping against wood, and in a flash I
guessed what had happened. My guide had made a point of showing that
the door could not be locked; and I, like a fool--in my haste to see
Don--hadn't sought other means of fastening it, more efficient than any
lock. I guessed that a bar of wood or iron had now been placed across
the door, the two ends in rungs or brackets which I had passed
unnoticed.
"Well!" I said to myself, "the mischief's done. No use kicking against
the pricks till I'm ready to kick. And I shan't be ready till I've
seen what can be done for Allendale."
The worst of it was that as I'd allowed myself to be trapped, it was
difficult to see how anything could be done. My theory that I'd been
let into a secret, because I should never be in a position to betray
it, seemed to be the true one. But my fury at Donald's state gave me a
sense of superabundant strength. I felt like Samson, able to pull down
the pillars of the Temple.
"You're--too late!" the man on the mattress sighed, his voice strange
and weak, sounding almost like a voice speaking through a telephone at
"long distance." "But I'm glad to see you, Jack! I've thought of you.
I've longed for you. Tell me--about Irene. Does she--believe I'm
dead?"
"She's in New York, dear old boy," I said, evading his question.
His eyes lighted. It seemed that a faint colour stained his ash-white
cheeks. "She came--to look for me! Oh, Jack, she did love me, then!"
"Of course," I answered truly enough: for she _had_ loved him before
everything went wrong. Even if I hadn't been as sure of Don's loyalty
as of my own, I should have known by the radiance of his face. If he
had stolen her jewels, he would not be coming back from death to life
in the illusion that love had brought her across the sea.
"Thank God!" he breathed. "I can die in peace--but no, not yet.
There's a thing I must tell you first, It's the thing they've kept me
here to get out of me. They've tried every way they knew--torture,
starvation, bribes of freedom; everything. They'd have killed me long
ago, only if they had they could never have got the secret. But--how
is it you're here? Is it another trick of theirs?"
As soon as I heard the word "secret" the mystery was clear. I was the
catspaw with which the chestnuts were to be pulled out of the fire. If
Doctor Rameses was the man who held us both, his intention was
evidently to kill two birds, two rare and valuable birds, with one
stone. How he had got Donald Allendale into his clutches I didn't know
yet, though I soon should: but having him, and learning that he and I
had been friends, he saw how to trap me securely and through me learn
Don's secret.
Almost without telling I knew that the secret must concern Irene's
jewels, which were worth at least twenty thousand pounds; a haul not to
be despised. Bending over Don, I lifted my head and looked around. I
was sure that a knothole in the wooden wall had come into being within
the last five minutes. If there'd been an aperture there, it had been
stuffed with rags, now noiselessly withdrawn. It was distant not a
yard from Donald's face as he lay on the mattress, and a person
crouching on the floor outside could catch every word, unless we
whispered. Somebody had deduced that the prisoner would open his heart
to me. The "secret" would thus become the property of those who
coveted it; and once it was in their possession Donald and I could be
suppressed. Thus the two birds would be felled with that one cleverly
directed stone--so cleverly directed that I was sure of the hand which
had placed it in the sling.
It was a case of kill or cure, to startle poor Don; but there was no
other way, and I took the one I saw. "Yes," I said, "they got me here
by a trick, but I don't regret coming. On the contrary. They--whoever
they are--want to hear what you tell me. But we can prevent that. Let
me help you to the other side of the mattress farther from that
knothole, and you'll whisper what you have to say. If that annoys
anyone--I know there are people made nervous by whispering!--why, they
can come in, and get a warm welcome. Put the story into few words; and
then we'll be prepared for the next thing."
It was a tonic I had given him. He threw a look of disgust and rage at
the knothole, which was dark because, no doubt, the lights had been
turned down outside to make our cubicle seem lighter. Sitting up
without my help, Don flung himself to the other side of the mattress;
and as I knelt beside him, whispered. Unless they had a concealed
dictaphone the secret was safe.
As I advised, this man raised from the dead, told his story in few
words. On shipboard, coming to America, he had been taken over the
ship one day, by the first officer. To his astonishment, he recognised
Hanson, his valet, in a rather clumsy disguise, travelling second
class. Controlling himself, he appeared not to notice: but as Hanson
had refused to make the voyage in his service, there must be some
curious motive for this ruse. Don could not guess it, but he had once
overheard a conversation between Hanson and Pauline which told him that
they were more than friends. Don didn't like Pauline, and believed
that she had set her mistress against him. After a little thought, he
determined to spring a surprise on Hanson. He learned the name under
which the valet was travelling, found out that the man had a state-room
to himself; and the night after his discovery opened the door and
abruptly walked in. He expected to catch Hanson unawares and surprise
a confession; but the room was empty. Don was amazed to see under the
berth a dressing-bag which had belonged to Irene. He could not believe
she had given it to Pauline or to Hanson, as it had been a present to
her from a friend. It flashed into his head that the thing had been
stolen, and that it might have valuable contents. Acting on impulse,
he took the bag and returned to his own cabin. There he opened it with
one of his own keys, and found most of his wife's jewellery.
This happened on the night when the ship docked. Don meant to
telegraph Irene next day; and was debating whether to have Hanson
arrested on board ship, or catechise him first. He determined upon the
latter course, as he wished to learn if Pauline were involved in the
theft. He wrote a note and sent it to Hanson, saying that his one
chance lay in confession and that he--Sir Donald--would talk with him
on the dock. The man kept the appointment, begged his ex-master's
forgiveness, told a long story of temptation, exonerated Pauline, and
promised to reform. Don, who had been fond of Hanson and valued him as
a servant, decided that, as he now had the jewels in his own
possession, he could afford to be generous. He bade the fellow "go and
sin no more": and as far as Hanson was concerned, considered the
episode closed. The dressing-bag he gave with other luggage to an
express man to take to his hotel, but the jewels (a rope of pearls, a
flexible tiara of diamonds, and a number of brooches, pendants and
rings) he had put (congratulating himself on his own prudence) into a
tobacco pouch in a pocket of his coat. He engaged a taxi, giving the
name of a hotel; and had no suspicion that anything was wrong until he
realised that, instead of leaving poor streets behind, he was being
driven through a maze of slums. Not knowing New York, he still hoped
that his chauffeur had chosen an unattractive short cut: but instinct
cried loudly that he was the victim of a trick. Fancying that the taxi
slowed down, he took the tobacco-pouch from his pocket and searched for
a place to hide it, in case of trouble. He happened to find a curious
repository. Lifting the leather cushion which formed the seat, he
discovered an inconspicuous rip in the leather binding of the lower
edge. He clawed out a piece of horsehair stuffing, threw it from the
window, and tucked the tobacco-pouch into the hole that was left.
Knowing the number of the taxi (Don was always great at remembering
numbers) he could inform the police if necessary! Whereas, if all were
well, and he found himself arriving safely at his destination he would
take out the bag and laugh at his own suspicions.
No sooner had he hidden the valuables, however, than the taxi stopped.
The chauffeur civilly informed him that a tyre was down, and apologised
for having to stop in such a poor neighbourhood. The fellow seemed so
frank, that Donald was ashamed of his own timidity. He stuck his head
out of the window to speak with the man at work, and--remembered no
more, till he came to himself in his present surroundings.
How long ago that was, he could not tell. He had waked to find severe
wounds on his head, and fancied that he had been delirious. He had
thought constantly of Irene, and bitterly regretted their quarrels. It
occurred to him (as to me in hearing the story) that Hanson had crossed
on Sir Donald Allendale's ship with the jewels, intending by the help
of Pauline at home, to throw suspicion on his master.
My evasive answers and the news of Irene's presence in New York, gave
Don new life and courage to fight for it, believing that through all
she had kept her love and faith. I, alas, knew that this was not the
case; but I hoped that Irene's heart would turn to him again if his
innocence were proved. "You _must_ get out of this for her sake," I
urged. "Besides, I shan't try to escape without you. We stand or fall
together."
"If I can find strength enough not to hinder instead of help!" he
groaned. "But there's little chance for either of us. For heaven
knows how long they've kept me chained to the wall. To-night, the
Chinaman who takes care of me after a fashion unlocked the iron ring
that was on my ankle. You can see the mark it's made! I wondered what
was up, but thought as I was so weak, it was no longer worth while to
waste the chain on me. Now I see they took it off because they didn't
want you to see at first glance that I was a prisoner, not a
_pensionaire_. The fact that they've left me free shows they've taken
their precautions, though!"
"Perhaps they haven't taken enough," said I, still whispering as he
did, that ears outside might strain in vain.
I rose from my knees, and began to look for the iron staple which I
knew must exist. I soon found it in the solid wall at the back of the
room; with the chain and the iron ankle-band attached. A heap of straw
and rags had been used to cover these from sight. No effort of Don's
wasted muscles could suffice to pull out the staple, as his gaolers
knew: and as for my strength, it had not occurred to them that I might
use it in that direction. Probably no one dreamed that blind Samson
would pull down the pillars!
I made Don move to a position where his body blocked the knothole, and
unless there was another, which I failed to see, I could work without
being overlooked. Grasping the iron ring, with all my might I pulled
and jerked at the staple till I loosened it in the wall. The rest was
easy: and sooner than I'd dared hope I had in my hand a formidable
weapon. If there were a chance of smashing the partition and breaking
out on the other side, it lay in that. Also, it might be useful
afterwards, for if we got into the main cellar, our troubles would be
but just begun. Practically my one hope was that the men told off to
deal with us might be cowards.
As for smashing the door, there was "nothing doing" there for us,
because of the bar certainly securing it. On examination, however, the
rough plank supporting the bracket lamp looked rotten. It had cracked
when the bracket was nailed up, and had never been mended. This was
good; and I had a plan too, in which the lamp itself was to play a
part. I took it from the bracket, and set it carefully on a rickety
stool which I propped against the back wall. Then I whispered to Don:
"Now for it! If I break through, I'll try and get hold of that bar
across the door. If I do, it will be another weapon: and besides, we
can make a quick dash. Here's my revolver for you. There's only one
cartridge in it; but nobody else knows that. And here's a knife I
stole upstairs. I'll have the iron staple and chain which will make a
good killing, and the bar too, if we're in luck."
"They may shoot through the partition when they find what we're up to,"
said Don.
"They haven't got their precious secret yet!" I reminded him. "They'll
try and take us alive, and we'll give them a hot time doing it!"
To weaken the cracked plank, I wrenched off the bracket, and had the
joy of hearing the wood tear as if a saw had bitten through. Then I
dealt blow after blow on the wounded spot, and when the wood began to
give I flung my weight against it. The noise drowned lesser sounds,
but I was conscious of a babble of voices like the chatter of angry
monkeys. Down went the upper half of the broken plank, and the one
next it gave way. It was close to the door, and reaching out an arm I
found the bar. Luckily it was held by a pair of wooden horns, for had
it been slipped into rings I could not have succeeded. As it was a
Chinaman jabbed at my hand with a knife: but I surprised him with a
smashing blow over the eyes, and seized the bar before he came at me
again. Instantly I had it out of the sockets, the door (which Don had
unlatched) fell open, and I burst through like a whirlwind, with him
behind me, carrying the lamp I'd yelled to him to bring.
Half a dozen Chinamen stood lined up to beat us back. Two with
pistols, two armed with axes, and the one I had tackled brandishing his
carving-knife. I went for the pair with the pistols. My iron bar
cracked a shaved head like an egg-shell, and broke the hand of his
mate. One dropped his weapon without a groan, the other let his fall
with a yelp: and Don, unexpectedly darting forward, snatched up both
the pistols. Thrusting one into my free hand he kept the other. We
were thus doubly armed, and together made a rush for the stairs, I
keeping my eyes open for a surprise attack from my late guide.